


Against The Cold - Extra Scenes.

by Hedge_witch



Series: Against The Cold [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But mainly I'm just amusing myself here., F/M, M/M, One Shot Collection, Riffing on past glories, Schmoop, Shameless Smut, There will be some serious stuff eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedge_witch/pseuds/Hedge_witch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is a collection of one shots I have written in the Against The Cold Universe, in no particular order. I'll admit here that most of this is just an excuse to post smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stannis braves the airport.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/gifts).



> These one-shots are all set in the Against The Cold universe, needless to say, none of them will make sense unless you read that, or unless you're willing to take the whole 'modern setting' thing in your stride and you're just here for the smut, in which case, fair enough, enjoy. 
> 
> So here's some fluff-without-plot for the first chapter.

There was never any getting away from the essential greyness of airports, no matter how many bright splashes of colour the shops laid out, trying to persuade passers to buy at every stage bar the security checks. The supposedly soothing artworks and strategically placed bits of greenery weren’t much help either, about as useful as trying to stem a flood with tissue-paper. Really, it was astonishing that anyone bothered. 

 

At any other time this current of thought might have run at the forefront of Stannis’ mind, filling him with the febrile warmth of resentment, but now it fizzled in the background as Stannis stood, pressed tight against the barrier in the Arrivals hall, eyes fixed on the doorway that divided it from customs as though a second’s inattention might cause him to miss the inflow of travellers from Lys, and among them Davos, absent now for four starving weeks.  

 

It had not seemed so long when they had first discussed it, the months they spent together waned and flowed into each other quickly enough, so the days would surely follow each other at their usual rate, even if they were apart. And so they did, but Stannis felt the beat of every minute. He could pinpoint the moment when the hours greyed and began to drag precisely, it had started the day after Stannis had bidden farewell to Davos at the airport, when he had idly sent him a text at lunchtime asking him if he wanted to be picked up from the ferry-port. He realised his mistake as soon as he sent it, but he was still awake at 3am the next morning to receive Davos’ wry, yearning response. After that Stannis had not forgotten his absence again, indeed it would have been impossible to do so when every morning he woke to the sound of his own breaths, hanging thinly in the air without their counterpoint. 

 

He tensed as the first few people trickled through the door, some hunching their shoulders and walking purposefully by, towards taxi or train, others slowing their steps and widening their eyes as they scanned the waiting crowd. He jerked his gaze impatiently away illogically resenting both them and those that called out to them and drew them into their arms. It would be soon, surely there wouldn’t be a problem at Customs? 

 

This had been his secret fear, kept simmering in the back of his mind as he drove up to the airport. He knew Davos had passed through airports before without hindrance but there was always the fear that this time someone might make a note of his history and decide to investigate. 

 

Stannis ground his teeth, dammit he had been satisfied that those days were well behind Davos and if some fussy airport functionary decided to quibble and keep them apart for a _second_ longer than necessary he would... Well, he would wait, there was nothing else he could do, but oh how it grated. 

 

Stannis had cast his eyes down as he frowned over this and he caught himself with a flash of panic, what if he had missed him? He quickly jerked his head back towards the doorway, cataloguing the faces between it and him and finding them all wanting.

 

And then there he was, slipping quietly around the doorway with that slight, tilted-forward posture that he adopted when he was weary. Davos paused and looked about him, pushing the strap of his bag into a more secure position on his shoulder as he did so, and Stannis found that his voice had failed him, though he was pressed so close against the barrier that, had it vanished, he would have been propelled forward into a run. He had half-raised his hand when Davos’ eyes, passing over the crowd for a second time, stuttered and came to a halt on his face. It was astonishing, Stannis thought, that even in the institutional electric light that made everything look fragile and false, Davos’ smile could so transform his features, making his perfectly ordinary skin look as though a light had been placed behind it. He was probably smiling too, and it would be an awkward, misshapen thing, but Stannis didn’t care. He had wished only for the sight of Davos, but now that he was there, as ever, Stannis’ desires multiplied and he turned away, fighting his way through the crowd to where the barrier came to an end, sacrificing his ability to see Davos on the promise that he might soon touch him once more.  

 

In the end it was Davos who reached out first, grasping Stannis’ arm as he overshot the end of the barrier and reeling him back in. He had only a bare second of anticipation before Davos was in his arms, swinging his bag absently against Stannis’ side and curling his head into the crook of his neck. 

 

“Gods,” Davos breathed out, long and slow, tightening his fingers in Stannis’ sweater, “you cannot know how much I have missed you.”

 

“I can,” Stannis replied, the whirl of the airport blurring around them as he turned his face from it, burying it in Davos’ tangled hair. “I can comprehend it without the slightest effort.” 

 

He felt Davos smile against his skin before he drew back, though he still remained partially slumped against Stannis’ shoulder. Stannis looked down and catalogued the small changes in his face, how his eyelids hung a little lower than normal and how the delicate skin around his eyes; which had not been caught by the sun, was wan. 

 

“You’re tired,” he said, “let’s get out of here”. 

 

__

 

 

The drive back to Dragonstone passed relatively quickly, once they got past Rosby the cars thinned out and Stannis was able to drive on into the dusk with little to hamper his progress, borne on the soft rise and fall of Davos’ voice. About five miles out from Dunskendale he fell silent, leaning his head against the window and reaching out to lay a warm hand on Stannis’ thigh. Stannis felt something in him quicken and speed up in response to this gesture but he suppressed it, chastising himself, Davos was clearly exhausted and would be seeking their bed solely as a place to sleep that night.  

 

They shivered and quickened their steps as they walked the short distance between the car and the door to their staircase, after the sun had set the spring evening still had a sliver of ice in it and they shut the door on it gladly. Davos blinked at the light in the hallway and Stannis took one of the handles of the bag from him, as together they hefted it up the stairs. 

 

“Do you want a cup of tea? Something to eat?” Stannis asked Davos, once they had hauled his bag into the living room, to be unpacked the next day.

 

“No,” Davos said, running his hand through his hair and smiling languidly, “let’s just go to bed.”

 

Stannis nodded and went to walk down the hall towards the bathroom, but as he did so Davos took a step towards him, knocking into him so that they both almost lost their footing, staggering against the doorframe. 

 

“Whoops,” Davos grinned, then twisted slightly and brushed his mouth gently against Stannis, holding it there with only the slightest pressure.

 

Stannis felt his whole body slump forwards and down towards him, as though some constraining clasp had been broken, and then he was sucking on Davos’ lower lip, his hands running greedily along the line of his back, while Davos made a long, appreciative noise in his throat. 

 

Stannis tried to pull back, but he only succeeded in getting as far as the side of Davos’ face, where he lingered, the bridge of his nose resting against Davos’s forehead, and spoke directly into his ear. 

 

“You’re exhausted,” and then with greater firmness when Davos made a move to protest, “I can tell.”

 

“I am,” Davos sighed ruefully, pulling back a little so that he could look into Stannis’ eyes, “but dammit I want...”

 

Stannis swallowed sharply and tried to keep his voice under control. “I too.” He barely prevented himself from seizing Davos’ face and kissing him again when he saw him shiver at these words. “But there will be plenty of time for that,” he paused and cradled Davos’ cheekbone in his hand, fearing that his words would come out distorted under the weight of this rising, near-painful feeling, “let’s just go to bed.” 

 

__

 

 

They lay there, lamplit and with limbs tangled as Stannis slowly unbuttoned Davos’ shirt. “You were sitting out in the sun,” he said, noting that the warm golden colour that darkened Davos’ forearms did not end with his shirtsleeves, indeed, he discovered as he pushed the shirt off Davos’ shoulders, it went on to cover his chest, sinking down to his hip-bones. Stannis swallowed sharply, struggling with a confusing mixture of jealousy towards those who had been there to  witness Davos, half-naked, his skin slowly being gilded by the sun, and appreciation of the effects of this process. 

 

“Yes,” Davos smirked sleepily, “I thought it would be worth it. He gasped as, yielding to temptation, Stannis ran his tongue along his collar-bone, testing to see if taste, as well as hue, had been altered. Finding himself unsure of the results Stannis lingered there, pressing kisses along the shivering line of Davos’ shoulder, breathing in the scent of salt and a hint of faded suncream. He smiled as he felt Davos’ fingers, slow and clumsy against the buttons of his shirt and eventually he took pity, hauling himself up against the pillows and shrugging it off as quickly as possible. 

 

He then shifted back down, pulling Davos in and pressing rapturously into his skin. At this, Davos gave a long shuddering sigh, winding his arms up around Stannis’ waist and curling his hands over his shoulders, fitting his chest against Stannis’ so that their breathing ebbed and flowed in perfect time. They lay there for a while, Stannis idly running his hands over ribs, pectorals, occasionally allowing himself to briefly pet at Davos’ stomach, and he felt his own eyelids droop as he listened to Davos’ breaths lengthen, stretching out into sleep. 

 

Just as Stannis thought that Davos had finally slipped off into unconsciousness he saw his eyes open a crack, showing the barest sliver of brown. 

 

“In the morning,” Davos said, almost indistinctly, evidently still a little troubled by their earlier conversation. 

 

Stannis smiled and kissed a promise into the side of Davos’ mouth. “In the morning,” he agreed. 

 


	2. Why Davos always gets flustered when Stannis wears that particular tie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And as promised, here is the smut. Mild D/S elements in this one, if you're not in to that sort of thing.

Stannis had noticed Davos’ penchant for self-restraint.

 

In truth, it was hard to miss. They would be lying in bed, Stannis kissing a scattered track down Davos’ chest, pressing harder, sometimes nipping at Davos’ skin as he sank lower, when he would suddenly miss the warm encouraging pressure of Davos’ hands on his back. Looking up, he invariably saw them wrapped tight around the bars of the bedhead, wrists trembling and knuckles straining against skin. Though he would keep them anchored there for as long as he could endure it, every time, Davos eventually broke, and his hands would descend once more, pressing entreaties into Stannis’ shoulders and urging him downward, as deep into Davos’ skin as he could dive. 

 

It was later, when Davos slumbered, cast up against Stannis like the debris of a storm, that Stannis cast his mind adrift and began to speculate about Davos’ actions. At first these thoughts died with the daylight and the familiar spin of coats, coffee cups and kisses in the hallway, but they grew in strength and began to linger, catching Stannis at idle moments. There was no rhyme or reason to it, he would be reorganising the shelving or cataloguing some new arrivals and suddenly he would see Davos’ arched neck and gritted teeth, clear in his mind’s eye, and he would have to lean against the philosophy section for a minute to compose himself, or grimly delete and re-type the string of nonsense words he had entered into the library’s system. 

 

In the end Stannis shut himself up in his office after the library had closed and set himself to thinking it through rationally, without letting what he could only classify as desire, overtake him. It was quite simple in the end, all his confused thoughts eventually coalesced into two questions, firstly, what would Davos do were it more than his own will keeping him pinioned, if Stannis were to somehow...hold him there? Secondly, Would Davos enjoy it? His skin humming with the possibility of it, Stannis was forced to admit that the idea certainly held an appeal for him. 

 

Stannis stared, unseeing, out into the crowded gloom of the empty library and decided that this state of affairs could not continue. He could not live perpetually glancing up at the strained tendons of Davos wrists and wondering, it would drive him mad. No, an experiment would have to be made, and soon. 

 

Inevitably the week that followed was a busy one for them both, leaving them with little energy beyond that required to stumble into the shower together or to exchange muffled, languid kisses on the sofa. Through it all Stannis bided his time, though he was conscious that he watched Davos more closely than before and that there was a new intensity to the touches he and Davos exchanged, as Stannis sought his answers in the fine hairs on Davos’ arms or the delicate patch of skin beneath his ear. If the odd, slightly wide-eyed glances Davos shot Stannis from time to time were any indication, he seemed to have picked up on the existence of this mute enquiry, even if he did not understand what it meant. 

 

Finally Friday evening came, and Stannis went uneasily through the motions that normally calmed him, moving around Davos through the flat as though they had both acquired force-fields, whose outer ions crackled and flashed when brought into contact with each other. Whether Davos noticed this, or whether he was following his own instincts Stannis couldn’t tell, but the febrile atmosphere was dampened, if not entirely diminished when, limned warmly by the kitchen light, Davos finally reeled Stannis in, placing his wineglass down and arching up to meet his mouth. 

 

At this, the low ember that Stannis had been nursing all week, spluttered and flared upwards once more, its lines of heat multiplying and racing along the branches of his nerves. Stannis let his mouth soften against Davos’ for a minute, coaxing him in, but this time, instead of leaning in and letting Davos’ hands slide up his back, Stannis arrested their progress, covering them with his own and sliding them along the worktop, away from Davos’ sides, so that he was at once stretched out and hemmed in on all sides by Stannis’ body. 

 

Davos’ reaction to this was immediate. He drew in a sharp breath and shuddered towards Stannis, every inch of his skin jerking closer, pulling briefly against his restraining grip before collapsing gratefully back into it. Stannis held himself back, trembling against the urge to press his advantage and, with some effort, focused his eyes to observe Davos’ face. His restraint was challenged once again as he watched Davos’ lips part and his eyes darken until they were fathoms deep. There was a faint glimmer of desperation in them however, and it pulled at Stannis, so he ran his thumb soothingly over the inside of Davos’ wrist, circling and calming the spot where his pulse jumped. 

 

“I did wonder...” Stannis began, his voice hoarse and somehow thick, as though all the words he might speak were crowding together and  pressing urgently against some barrier. “I mean, is this ok for you? Would you like me to..?”

 

“I would like that very much.” Davos interrupted him, his voice low and uneven. After making this confession he paused and swallowed sharply a few times, a dull red tide seeping up his neck. “It’s just that...I’ve never, wanted anything like this before. Whenever I tried, this sort of thing, it was always the other way round. But with you...I find that I like the idea,” he hesitated, wetting his lips, before continuing with greater assurance, “I like the idea very much.”

 

Stannis struggled wildly against the impulse to throw Davos down on the kitchen floor, bowing his head over Davos’ shoulder and breathing out harshly, once, twice, three times until he felt somewhat in control of himself again. This was all almost all lost to him once more as the mist faded from before his eyes and he looked down to see Davos’ shoulders trembling, the skin of his throat damp with sweat. 

 

“Only if you truly want this...only if you’re sure,” Stannis swore vehemently, loosening his grip on Davos’ hands with a terrible effort, though he didn’t know whether this declaration was mainly aimed at Davos or himself. 

 

“Yes.” In the passing seconds, Davos seemed to have found a new steadiness, for his voice was stronger and more even. “But,” and he swallowed and tried to chuckle, though it came out low and strangled, “if you want this, you’re going to have to ride a little roughshod over me this time, because I haven’t got the faintest idea what I’m doing here.” 

 

Stannis didn’t have the words to describe the noise that came from his throat, he only knew that hearing it made Davos gasp and jerk violently towards him, almost losing his balance as Stannis released his hands, exchanging his hold on them for a firm grip on the nape of Davos’ neck as he marched them both towards the bedroom. 

 

\--

 

Stannis pushed Davos down so that he was sitting on the bed and turned away, uttering a curt “take them all off” over his shoulder as he did so. Davos forced his fingers to obey him and tried to focus on the small task of gradually baring his skin, though it was hard to concentrate when he was constantly aware of Stannis moving around the room, opening a drawer and carefully selecting something from within. 

 

Davos swallowed and his fingers stumbled over the buttons of his shirt when he saw that it was a tie, pulled purposefully over Stannis’ knuckles, curling around his wrist. 

 

When Davos had finished, Stannis made quick work of stripping the covers off the bed, cleaning it down to a plain white square of sheets, upon which he pressed Davos, covering him with his body, still tantalisingly clothed, and kissing him deeply and searchingly. 

 

Davos sank gratefully into it, losing himself so deeply in the wet heat of Stannis’ mouth and the pleasant rasp of his stubble that he gasped and jerked his chin up when Stannis abruptly pulled away. He glanced up at him, blinking against the lamplight, and saw that Stannis was smiling fiercely, his hands clawed into the sheets on either side of Davos’ head. Davos followed his gaze and flushed as he saw that his hands had crept up and clasped the bars of the headboard of their own volition. 

 

“So obliging of you Davos,” Stannis whispered, his voice roughening as he said Davos’ name, and he leaned over and wound the coil of material around Davos’ wrists, securing them to the bed-head with enough space for Davos to shift a little within his restraints, but with no scope for him to escape them.  

 

He had immediate cause to strain against them as Stannis pulled away, rolling onto his side and resting a cruel inch away from Davos’ body, propping his head up on his hand and considering Davos hungrily. A few seconds passed, Davos aware of his breath sharpening with every moment’s delay and then Stannis finally touched him, running a single finger lightly down the inside of Davos’ arm to his collarbone, watching in fascination as this lightest of touches made Davos shudder and arch upwards. 

 

He kept going in this manner for a while, skimming his hands and mouth lightly over Davos’ aching skin, but gradually his touches grew heavier and more insistent and he sucked hard on the skin of Davos’ chest and stomach, leaving tender places where bruises began to bloom. Davos was used to expressing his desire through the press and pull of his hands, but, deprived of this ability, he felt a flood of entreaties rise up in his throat, though the last patches of his self-consciousness made him grit his teeth against them, allowing them to escape only as wordless moans. This restraint finally broke when Stannis traced his teeth lightly along Davos’ hipbone and Davos could not prevent himself from crying out.

 

“Gods Stannis, _please._ ”

 

He heard a harsh intake of breath in answer before Stannis pulled himself up to hover over Davos, staring; flushed and wild-eyed, down at his face.

 

“Please _what?”_ He asked, his voice harsh and vehement.

 

“Anything,” Davos replied, tugging his hands fruitlessly forward, “just, your hands or your mouth or _something,_ please, I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

 

If it were possible, Stannis’ eyes darkened even further and he swallowed convulsively before speaking, almost to himself, his voice thick with ebbing restraint. “I thought about bending your knees up and fucking you like this, but I’d want to draw it out until you were weeping with it.” He smiled as Davos groaned and continued, still maintaining an air of calm that was belied by the hectic flush on his cheeks and his quickening breath. “However, I think I am past that point now,” here he leaned forward and whispered roughly into Davos’ ear, “we’ll have to try that next time,” before grabbing the tube of lubricant from the bedside table and sinking down Davos’ body. 

 

The flood of words could not be held back now, and Davos was barely aware of what he was saying as Stannis finally, _finally,_ took Davos’ cock into his mouth. Whatever he was saying, it was enough to break the last threads of Stannis’ control as he growled deliciously around Davos and started to set a punishing pace, keeping his hands pressed hard against Davos’ twitching hips and not being over-careful with his teeth. Davos’ head was swimming and he could feel the tide curling and rising within him, advancing faster and faster as Stannis’ finger, cold with gel, pressed inside him. It had barely sunk to the hilt before Davos broke, jerking so hard against the headboard that he thought it might break and near-howling with the force of his release. 

 

He floated on it for a little while, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, before he came back to himself sufficiently to search out Stannis, his breath catching as he saw that he was still hovering over Davos’s thighs, trembling, his hair in disarray and his mouth bruised. 

 

“Stannis, love,” he said gently, his voice feeling strange now that it was under his control once more, “have you finished?”

 

Stannis blinked and glanced down, where his trousers sat, damp and distended. “Not quite,” he said hoarsely, “but it won’t take much,” his eyes widened as he stared down at Davos, “gods, just looking at you might be enough.”

 

Davos swallowed and whispered, trying to keep his voice steady, “come here.” He watched impatiently as Stannis pulled his trousers down, shuddering as the cool air hit his skin, and then he wrapped his legs tight around Stannis as he thrust up, once, twice, against his stomach, groaning as he came. 

 

\--

 

Davos drifted off after that, sliding into sleep as Stannis carefully cleaned them off and untied his hands, massaging the blood-flow back into his wrists. His slumber was so deep that he did not wake even when Stannis rose and got dressed, ready for work, only stumbling into the kitchen mere minutes before Stannis was due to leave.

 

He faltered on the threshold, his greeting fading in his mouth as he saw that Stannis was wearing _the_ tie, folded neatly and innocuously beneath his shirt-collar. 

 

Stannis smirked and drained the last of his coffee, “you don’t approve? But you expressed such vehement appreciation for it last night,” his gaze darkened, “you said a number of deeply interesting things, I rather wish I had thought to record them.”

 

“Oh gods,” Davos said weakly, “I’ve created a monster.”

 

Stannis’ smile grew teeth, “I would prefer to say that this experiment proved to be a success,” he stood, pressing a kiss to the side of Davos’ mouth and carding his fingers roughly through his hair, before whispering, as a parting shot, “though it could stand being repeated, possibly quite regularly.”

 

As the door slammed behind Stannis Davos sank down into his vacated chair, rubbed his wrists and grinned. 

 


	3. Broken Furniture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, in a slight change of direction, my secondary Westeros OTP hijacked this chapter. Fear not, Stannis and Davos are present, but this chapter is also heavy on the Jaime/Brienne. If that's not your thing, don't worry, normal service will be resumed in the next chapter. 
> 
> (I don't think I have to explain IKEA right? For anyone not in the know, on a Saturday morning it's one of the circles of Hell that even Dante didn't want to talk about.)

“Seven hells!” Brienne hissed, as she caught sight of them, hovering over by the light fittings. 

 

“I know, those cushion-covers are really exceedingly ugly aren’t they? They look like something the Stark menagerie has chewed.” Jaime drawled, eyeing the offending articles with distaste. 

 

“No you idiot!” Brienne whispered sharply, “look! Over there!”

 

“Oh fuck,” Jaime muttered as he glanced over, “it’s ‘wet-blanket Baratheon,’ whose only virtue is that you know that he’s the only person more miserable than you at family parties. Quick, he looks pretty absorbed in what the other guy is saying, if we sneak off now we might be able to avoid him.”

 

“We will do no such thing,” Brienne said vehemently, “just because you’ve probably been monstrously rude to him at some point, it doesn’t mean that you have to keep going.”

 

“ _I’ve_ been monstrously rude!” Jaime spluttered, “ _he_ called me a ‘useless pretty boy’! To my face!”

 

Brienne snorted, “well he’s hardly the type to insult you behind your back. Anyway, you have to admit it’s a pretty accurate description.”

 

Jaime smirked, “so you think I’m pretty eh?”

 

“Gods, you are such a child,” Brienne replied, rolling her eyes, “no wonder he doesn’t like you. Anyway, they’ve spotted us now.” She grinned and waved, in answer to Stannis’ companion, while Jaime sneered as he felt Stannis’ glare wash over him.

 

“So who’s the unfortunate guy with him then?” He asked, as they picked their way across the room.

 

“That’s Davos,” Brienne said, smiling.

 

“Oh gods, _that’s_ Saint Davos Seaworth? Seven hells, he looks a little more disreputable and significantly less downtrodden than I had thought. Are you _absolutely_ sure they’re sleeping together? I mean, I know opposites attract and all, but your friend Davos looks like he just wandered in from an all-night gig and Stannis...well he’s wearing a _tie,_ in _IKEA_ for fucks sake.”

 

Brienne flushed, but could not snap out a reply as they had drawn too near to Stannis and Davos. Instead she rearranged her face into a smile, a cautious one for the former and a wider, more unrestrained one for the latter.

 

“Hello Brienne,” Davos smiled, reaching up to enfold her in a loose hug. Brienne returned it, briefly and awkwardly, uncomfortable being the focus of Stannis’ sharp gaze, which was pointed enough to make her relieved when Davos sank down from his tiptoes and turned an inquisitive gaze on Jaime. 

 

“Oh this is Jaime, my, um...” She faltered, aware of an infinitesimal downward shift in Jaime’s shoulders , and, feeling the blood rise to her cheeks, continued in a rush, “...he’s my partner.”

 

“Oh!” said Davos, turning towards Jaime, and Brienne felt a stab of apprehension through her embarrassment, first meetings were always a danger area. Fortunately, Davos had evidently noticed Jaime’s right sleeve, pinned carefully up where his wrist used to be and he halted the motion of his right hand, offering Jaime his left instead. 

 

Jaime shook it, and Brienne let out a slow quiet breath. Glancing away, she found herself looking at Stannis, who was contemplating Davos with an unreadable expression on his face. Sensing her regard, he stiffened and looked away, leaving Brienne with the guilty feeling that she had somehow intruded. 

 

She hurriedly tuned back into the conversation between Davos and Jaime, which was, so far, mercifully innocuous. 

 

“So,” Davos said, glancing between them, “what made you two decide that this was a good place to spend a Saturday morning?” He glanced over at the vista of neon signs and fractious children, grimacing, and Stannis gave a snort of distaste. 

 

“Jaime insisted I replace everything in my kitchen,” Brienne said dully, her resentful expression conveying her thoughts on this development clearly. 

 

Jaime sighed, “all the mugs were chipped,” he explained, “and I refuse to keep drinking wine straight from the bottle, it’s not civilised.”

 

“Quite,” said Stannis, looking horrified mere seconds after he had said it, an expression that only intensified when he saw the glance of resigned solidarity that Davos and Brienne exchanged. 

 

Deciding that a change of subject was called for, Brienne glanced over at the contents of Stannis and Davos’ trolley. Its cargo was almost absurdly complete, comprising a bedside table and lamp, both functional and in hues of blue and grey, along with an old-fashioned silver alarm-clock. 

 

“He knocked my old nightstand over last night,” Davos explained, gesturing towards Stannis and smiling ruefully, “so I blackmailed him into coming with me to replace it.”

 

“Oh?” Brienne said, frowning; Stannis had never struck her as a careless person, “how did that happen?”

 

“Oh it’s easily done!” Jaime interjected, a little too loudly, and Brienne was further confused when she saw that Stannis was blushing slightly as they made their farewells. 

 

Once the two men were out of earshot, Jaime elbowed her in the ribs, “no asking for further details please! I’m struggling to repress the mental images as it is!”

 

“What? I don’t... _Oh_ ,” Brienne said, horrified, as light dawned, “oh _shit!_ Bugger, that was an invasive question.” Her face creased up again, “gods he’d have had to have kicked it or something to have completely wrecked it...how on earth...?”

 

“Oh there are ways...” Jaime purred, “if you want I can demonstrate when we get home...” He waggled his eyebrows and gave a mock-wince as Brienne whacked him on the shoulder. 

 

Brienne smiled at his theatrics, but then sobered, “thanks for not being a dick,” she said gruffly, “Davos is a good bloke, I quite like having him as a friend.”

 

Jaime shrugged, suspiciously nonchalant, “well i suppose I can’t alienate _everyone_ you choose to spend your time with and...speaking of,” he glanced up at Brienne, his expression wry, but still a little tense, “it was nice to hear you acknowledge our relationship, even if you did almost swallow your tongue in the process.” There was very little humour left in his eyes as he said this, and a whisper of hurt had crept in. 

 

Brienne sighed, reaching out almost unconsciously to brush her hand over Jaime’s cheek, “it’s not you,” she explained, “or rather, it is...but not in the way you think.” When Jaime remained silent she took a deep breath and pressed on, “even with people I know and trust, I’m still a little afraid that they’ll laugh when I tell them, or be surprised, or worse, that they won’t believe me at all, that they’ll...glance over at you to see if it’s a joke.”

 

Jaime sighed, and his voice, though frustrated, had a thread of warmth in it. “Seven hells Brienne, how can you be at once so utterly... _indomitable,_ and yet so cripplingly insecure?” His eyes strayed down to his right arm, “at any rate...”

 

“If you dare bring up your bloody hand...” Brienne hissed, “I’ve told you a thousand times...”

 

“No! Look, listen for a second,” Jaime paused until he was sure Brienne wouldn’t interrupt, “what I’m trying to say is this... I reckoned that Davos and his pet raincloud looked like an ill-matched pair, and no doubt people say the same of us. But, those two don’t give a shit, they know that they’re well suited and that’s what matters...” He looked steadily at Brienne, “I happen to think we suit each other quite well too, so if you agree, well, no-one else really matters do they?” 

 

Brienne smiled ruefully and nodded, “you’re right...for once.”

 

Jaime grinned and continued to hover in front of Brienne, with a certain air of expectation.

 

Brienne tried to compose her features into a frown, but had the feeling that she wasn’t really pulling it off. “I’m still not comfortable with public displays of affection, so you can get out of my face,” she advised him sternly, unable to suppress a quirk of her lip when she saw him pout. 

 

True to form, he quickly recovered himself, taking a step back and smirking, “well, let’s get out of this place as quickly as possible so that we can indulge in a private display of affection instead, after all, if your lamentable lack of crockery forced us to waste our morning in this place, at least we can make proper use of the afternoon... Also I refuse to accept a world in which _Stannis_ is getting more action than I am.”

 

Brienne rolled her eyes and swiped playfully at Jaime’s shoulder again, but this time her hand lingered there, her fingers warm and rough against the skin of his neck. 

 

Jaime grinned, and feeling charitable, he extended silent thanks to Davos, and even Stannis, miserable bastard that he was, for appearing so fortuitously and forcing Brienne’s hand. He glanced over at her, “so do you reckon Davos’ new nightstand will survive the evening?”

 

Brienne flushed, but otherwise maintained her cool, turning to Jaime with a raised eyebrow, “if you don’t shut up, I will call your bluff and speculate about it _at length._ ”

 

Jaime shut his mouth, and, not for the last time, conceded defeat.

 


	4. Two Nights in Asshai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first half of this while sweltering in Kerala, and the second enduring an unexpectedly humid night back in the UK. Don't ask me what they're doing in Asshai, the setting is essentially the flimsiest of excuses to write 'oh god it's too hot but we're going to do it anyway' sex.

_A houseboat in the backwaters of Asshai:_

 

Stannis turned fretfully on to his side for the third time in as many minutes and scowled up at the ceiling, where the fan twirled sluggishly through the soupy air. The houseboat rustled around him, its flimsy slats of palm irritating him, seeming to be a mocking imitation of the warm and solid pine of Davos' home, and the blessed rain-filled wind that drenched its windows. He grimaced as he thought of it, the memory making the hot and lifeless cabin all the more unbearable.

Stannis rolled over once more, scowling as his t-shirt (Davos' in truth, but Stannis refused to ever return it) pulled against the pool of sweat in his lower back. He glowered over at his partner who was lying motionlessly a hand's breadth from him, his breath coming a little too even.

"I know you're awake," he murmured.

A smile flickered over Davos' face, though his eyes remained closed. "I was just listening to you rage against the climate," he offered by way of explanation, "for some strange reason I find it rather soothing."

Stannis reached out automatically, running his fingers through Davos' damp hair. "That is a very strange preference," he said, his voice falling into the low warm timbre that he could only summon when he and Davos were sharing breath across a pillow.

"Don't," Davos moaned, and, a few months ago, Stannis would have snatched his hand back; now, he merely stilled it, waiting for Davos to finish.

"If you keep that up I will want you to, well … I'll want you to keep going," Davos continued, "and it is entirely too hot for anything like that."

Stannis ground his teeth and consigned the whole of Asshai to the depths as he pulled his hand reluctantly back across the clammy sheets.

"Later," Davos said calmly, and Stannis was seized by the desire to shake his seeming composure.

"The first air-conditioned room with a lock on the door we come to," he growled, "I am going to hold you to that."

Davos shuddered and uttered a soft curse, rolling resolutely over to face the netted window.

For the first time that evening, Stannis smiled.

  
The next night:

  
“Can’t sleep?” Davos enquired mildly, earning himself a glare from the other side of the bed, Stannis’ face shadowed and barely visible in the pre-dawn light. When no other reply was forthcoming he sighed and sat up, wincing as the sheets peeled off his skin, and turned on the lamp. Glancing down appreciatively as the light glowed golden on a long slide of Stannis’ skin, stopping only with a sheet resting lightly and low on his hips, Davos grimaced at the irony that a loosening of Stannis’ inhibitions should be accompanied by humidity that made it impossible to take advantage of it.

“I thought,” he said as he leaned down to pick up a bottle of water from beside the bed, “I thought that the heat wasn’t bothering you as much, you managed to get a few hours of sleep last night.” He unscrewed the lid and took a deep swallow, pulling the drenched tangles of his hair away from his forehead and wondering if it would make any difference if he upturned the rest of the water over his head. He made the mistake of glancing over at Stannis while he did so and choked as he saw him scowling and raised up on one elbow, the sheet cast aside.

“It is not the heat that is keeping me awake,” Stannis said tightly, then, after pausing to brush some beads of sweat from his upper lip, he amended his words. “Well, it is not only the heat -- it is mainly due to your performance from earlier.”

Davos swallowed, no need to ask what Stannis was talking about. It had been a whim, he had barely given the gesture a thought as he fished a cube of ice from his gin-and-tonic, reaching across the table and running it along the patch of sunburnt skin on Stannis’ collarbone. But his fingers had faltered and trembled as he heard Stannis’ faint, choked-off gasp. A burning moment had passed then, when Stannis had leaned into his touch through the melting water, but it had been broken when he pulled away, jerking back as he had done in the first days, before he had become assured of his right to touch, and he had been taciturn and carefully restrained ever since.

Davos rolled over to face him and sighed, “Well, there’s one thing we can do about that.” He reached over and took Stannis’ hand, bringing it over to rest on the crook of his waist.

Stannis continued to frown, though his fingers curled into Davos’ skin of their own volition. “It is too hot,” he said, “could you bear it?”

“Bear it?” Davos grinned, shifting so that Stannis’ fingers slid down towards his hip. He leaned in, pressing a kiss against Stannis’ parched lips, “I want,” he began, but was unable to continue as Stannis seized him by the shoulder and pressed him back into the mattress, leaning over him, the heat of his body palpable even where they did not touch.

“Yes,” Stannis breathed, and then seized a handful of Davos’ sweaty hair, making him arch his neck so that he could lick an incandescent line from his collar-bone to the soft place behind his ear. Davos moaned, his body jerking upward into the source of the heat, and he felt Stannis shudder in turn as Davos dragged his fingers over the pool of sweat in his lower back, pressing him down to meet him. It burned, but then it always did, and it was interesting to see Stannis’ hands, normally so decided, grow languid as they swept their way up Davos’ arms.

“You’ve gone so brown,” Stannis murmured, “it’s been bloody torture, every day, wanting to taste the change in your skin.” He hauled himself up, and glanced down Davos’ body, his mouth quirking slightly. “Well, not entirely brown.”

Ridiculously, Davos felt himself blush. “Did you want to...” he said, gasping as Stannis’ hips shifted over his as he leaned over to the bedside table, grabbing the jar of lube.

“No,” Stannis said, gasping as he ground his hips down again and Davos moaned, “let’s just...carry on like this." He poured a liberal amount over his hands and reached down between them to cover them both, setting a languid pace. Davos watched a bead of sweat make its way down Stannis’ chest and bit his lip against a moan, his hands shifting restlessly between Stannis’ hips and the sodden sheets. He shuddered and cried out as Stannis brought his hand down between them, quickening the pace as he did so.

It did not take long after that. They had both been on the edge of this for days, lying apart in their humid bed, counting the centimetres between them, and Davos began to run his hands restlessly over Stannis' shoulders as he felt everything — the heat, the sweat, the delicious pressure of Stannis’ hand — narrow down and sharpen into light. He arched up and groaned into the side of Stannis’ neck as he came, mouthing at the skin beneath his lips, then collapsing back onto the clammy sheets. Stannis was not far behind, Davos could see the tight line of his jaw relaxing as he took deep gasps of the warm, watery air.

“Come on love,” he murmured, bringing one hand up to join Stannis’ and the other to rest against his hip. This encouragement proved sufficient as Stannis shuddered, grinding hard down on Davos one more time before he came. He paused there, panting, for the space of a few breaths, before rolling off onto his side, his face softened and dazed. Davos managed to haul himself up, grabbing the rest of the water and some tissues to clean them both up. He kissed the arch of Stannis’ brow as he did so, running his fingers through his sweat-spiked hair and wishing that it were cool enough for him to lie in his arms.

"I think I will be able to sleep now,” Stannis murmured wryly, kissing the side of Davos’ mouth and twining their fingers together. Davos smiled and felt his own eyelids droop as they lay there while the strange, bright-winged birds started calling, their hands still joined.


End file.
